


Post-Lizard Debacle

by wildamongwolves



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 12 Days of Sterek, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fanart, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Season/Series 02 Finale, Pre-Slash, derek hale grew up in a big family, derek is not actually that bad at feelings, he's not a caveman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:13:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21756610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildamongwolves/pseuds/wildamongwolves
Summary: Stiles' hand hangs uselessly in the air for a moment, the heat of Derek's body still warming his fingertips.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 14
Kudos: 142
Collections: 12 Days of Sterek





	Post-Lizard Debacle

**Author's Note:**

> I don't actually remember that much of the episode, so I basically just handwaved this. I wasn't even going to write anything for 12 days, but then I procrastinated drawing something (which is what I signed up for) so long that I decided to post an old drawing I never shared and wrote this the evening before the deadline to actually make it Sterek, lol. Did I learn my lesson? Probably not, lbr.
> 
> Betaed by KikiDoesFanfic, who made this so, so much better! Thank you so much!

”Son? You okay?” his dad knocks on the door. ”It's awfully quiet in there. Stiles?”  
”M'fine, Dad,” Stiles mumbles just loudly enough for his father to hear.

He doesn't know how long he's been staring at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The cuts and bruises have finally healed, he notes absentmindedly, though inside he's still reeling. He flashes back to the warehouse again – to Allison stabbing their classmates, Jackson dying as a vengeful lizard and coming back to life as a (probably still vengeful) werewolf, Gerard Argent's... everything, and Derek's face when he was lying paralyzed on the floor after Scott backstabbed him. Proverbially spit in his face. Well, probably literally as well, Scott does that sometimes when he speaks and Derek was lying on the floor, a perfect receptacle for wayward spit particles. 

Ew.

He sighs, only mildly entertained by his gross thoughts; he's so tired and he can't get Derek out of his head. He'd helped Derek up off the floor, taken aback by the angry look on Scott's face when he saw Stiles assisting him, but fuck Scott sideways with a rusty fork because he has no idea what it's like to be paralyzed. The utter helplessness and terror of being immobilized while bad guys were doing bad things right next to you. Scott had been so proud, too, when he'd told Stiles about his so-called master plan of using Derek like a rag doll. Ugh. So yeah, fuck Scott for now. Stiles wasn't going to be sorry about helping Derek not lie vulnerable on the floor of a dirty abandoned warehouse.

His mind stays on Derek, the heavy weight of him as Stiles helped him up, held him upright, much heavier than in the pool buoyed by water, though easier to hold steady. He thinks of the look on what little of Derek's face he could see from that position – hurt, fear, anger, but in the end it was the acceptance that did Stiles in.

He sighs again, running a hand over his buzzed hair. Parts of his face are still tender to the touch and he pokes at them, digging his phone out of his pocket with his other hand. He goes to his contacts and spends some time staring at Derek's name before typing three texts in quick succession. 

_I didn't know about Scott's plan_

_Obviously, since it was a shit plan_

_I'm sorry_

After a brief deliberation, he sends a fourth message:

_Are you okay_

He puts the phone back in the pocket of his pants, strips them off with his socks and underwear, and climbs into the shower. He wishes the water could erase that night, and all this other crap he's seen recently, like it washes away sweat and dirt and dead skin cells off his body. When his cell phone pings, he barely dries his hand before he reaches for it, keeping it out of the spray of the water with an outstretched arm.

_I know you didn't. It's okay_

It really wasn't. And Derek should know that not answering his question is as good as answering it. Stiles fumes for a while under the spray, angry at Scott, at the world, at Allison and at Jackson, at Derek who just accepts shit thrown in his face like he thinks he deserves it. He haphazardly dries himself off and in his bedroom he pulls on his used jeans and his last clean shirt, and he's about to open his door to head over to the abandonded train station Derek pathetically calls home when he hears his window sliding open. 

Derek looks – he looks good, as he always does, but he's also avoiding Stiles' eyes, looking beyond Stiles' shoulder with a furrowed brow. The light from Stiles' desk lamp highlights the tension in his neck, and who even has muscles like that in their neck? Stiles waits but Derek doesn't say anything, just stands there like a very intense Greek statue, so he ponders his options for a moment. What's the worst that could happen? Stiles takes a big breath to steel himself, ignores his heartbeat speeding up and walks straight into him, wrapping his arms around Derek who stiffens up further, as if he doesn't know how to hug. 

That's okay. Stiles can wait. The apparently epic love story between Lydia and Jackson has completely trashed his ten-year plan – though if he's honest with himself, his heart hasn't really been in it for some time – so while he's engaged in the weirdest, most one-sided hug of his life, he concocts a new one: making Derek Hale accept more nice things instead of the awful ones as if they were his due in life. He gives himself a year, because right now it doesn't seem likely either of them will live long enough for a full ten-year plan. He likes a challenge, he can work with a year. 

Derek's arms are around him now, though he's more hovering them lightly over Stiles' back than actually hugging him, but it's progress. Stiles squeezes a little harder, turns his face into Derek's neck, ignoring the pain in his face as he presses close. Derek's not wearing cologne – probably a werewolf thing rather than a Derek thing, though Stiles definitely needs to ask him later. He smells nice so he must have access to a shower, and his neck is like a soft space heater against Stiles' face. God, it's nice to just hold someone. He adds a sub-heading to his one-year plan: make Derek Hale a hugger, and immediately removes it as Derek squeezes him a little, hugs him properly. God, it's even nicer being held. Derek's scruff feels harsh and real against his skin and Stiles burrows a little closer, inhaling deeply to smell him a little better. Derek comes to his room uninvited so Stiles figures sniffing him is fair play. 

When the hug comes to an end, which is to say when Derek begins moving away and Stiles reluctantly follows suit, he leaves his hand on Derek's shoulder in a silent request that Derek doesn't bolt out the window with one of his ridiculously dramatic somersaults. He's under no illusion about his inability to stop Derek from leaving so he lets his touch be light, and to his surprise, Derek's eyes find his. Stiles kind of wants to laugh because Derek looks at him as if Stiles is the weirder one out of the two of them, but mostly he's just glued to the spot, pinned by Derek's intense, searching gaze.

Then Derek nods once, decisively, as if he's just come to a conclusion, and leaves through the window, quietly and without acrobatics. Stiles' hand hangs uselessly in the air for a moment, the heat of Derek's body still warming his fingertips. His heart settles down and he feels oddly like he's part of Derek's whatever-year plan, unknown to him as it is. 

For now, anyway, he thinks as he closes the window and a genuine, pleased smile crosses his face for the first time in days.


End file.
